Four Blind Mice

Chapter Nineteen

The meeting went as well as any of them could have hoped. The three salesmen left the Army Corps offices at a little past eight that night, with assurances of support for the PDW. Thomas Starkey had also demonstrated the latest version of the MP5 submachine gun and talked knowledgeably and enthusiastically about his company's fabrications system, which made their gun parts 99.9 percent interchangeable.

“Let's get some cold beers and thick steaks,” Starkey said. “See if we can get in a little trouble in Fayetteville, or maybe some other town down the line. That's an order, gentlemen.”

“I'm up for that,” said Harris. “It's been a good day, hasn't it? Let's see if we can spoil it.”

By the time they left Fort Bragg darkness had fallen. “On the road again...” Warren Griffin started in on his theme song, the old Willie Nelson standard that he sang just about every time they started an adventure. They knew Fayetteville, not only from business trips, but from a time when they'd been stationed at Bragg. It was only four years since the three of them had left the Army, where they'd been Rangers: Colonel Starkey, Captain Harris, Master Sergeant Griffin. Seventy-fifth Ranger Regiment, 3rd Battalion, originally out of Fort Benning, Georgia.

They were just entering town when they saw a couple of hookers loitering on a semi darkened street corner. In the bad old days Hays Street in town had block after block of rough bars and strip joints. It used to be known as Fayettenam. No more, though. The locals were trying to gentrify the downtown area. A billboard put up by the Chamber of Commerce read: "Metro Living At A Southern Pace'. Made you want to throw up.

Warren Griffin leaned out the side window of the Suburban. “I love you, and especially you. Stop the car this minute! Oh God, please stop the vehicle. I love you, darling. I'll be back! ”he called to the two girls.

Starkey laughed, but he drove on until they reached The Pump, which had been there for at least twenty years. They strolled inside to eat and party. Why work if you couldn't get a reward? Why feel the pain unless you got some gain?

During the next few hours, they drank too many beers, ate twenty-four-ounce steaks with fried onions and mushrooms slathered on top, smoked cigars, and told the best war stories and jokes. Even the waitresses and bartenders got into the act some. Everybody liked Thomas Starkey. Unless you happened to get on his bad side.

They were leaving Fayetteville around midnight when Starkey pulled the Suburban over to the curb. Time for a live-fire exercise," he said to Griffin and Harris. They knew what that meant.

Harris just smiled, but Griffin let out a whoop. “Let the war games begin!”

Starkey leaned out his window and talked to one of the girls loitering on Hays Street. She was a tall, rail-thin blonde, wobbling slightly on silver platform heels. She had a little, pouty mouth, but it disappeared when she flashed them her best hundred-dollar smile.

“You are a very beautiful lady,” Starkey said. “Listen, we're heading over to our suite at the Radisson. You be interested in three big tips, instead of just one? We kind of like to party together. It'll be good, clean fun.”

Starkey could be charming, and also respectful. He had an easy smile. So the blonde hooker got into the Suburban. “You all promise to be good boys,” she said, and smiled that wonderful smile of hers again.

“Promise,” the three of them chorused. “We'll be good boys.”

“On the road again,” Griffin sang.

“Hey, you're pretty good,” the girl said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She was good with men, knew how to handle them, especially soldiers from Fort Bragg, who were usually decent enough guys. Once upon a time, she'd been an Army brat herself. Not so long ago. She was nineteen.

“You hear that? This beautiful lady likes my singing. What's your name, sweetie?” asked Griffin. “I like you already.”

“It's Vanessa,” said the girl, giving her made up street handle. “What's yours? Don't say Willie.”

Griffin laughed out loud. “Why, it's Warren. Nice to make your acquaintance, Vanessa. Pretty name for a pretty lady.”

They rode out of town, in the direction of 1-95. Starkey suddenly pulled the Suburban over after a mile or so and shouted, Tit stop!" He let the car roll until it was mostly hidden in a copse of evergreens and prickle bushes.

“The Radisson's not far. Why don't you wait?” Vanessa asked. “You boys can hold it a little longer, can't you?”

“This can't wait, ”said Griffin. Suddenly, he had his pistol up tight against the girl's skull.

From the front seat, Brownley Harris had his gun aimed at her chest.

"De had tay len daul'Thomas Starkey screamed, his voice deep and scary.

Hands on your head.

“Ban gap nhieu phi en phue roi do.”

You're in serious trouble, bitch.

Vanessa didn't understand a word but she sure got the tone. Bad shit was going down. Real bad shit. Her stomach dropped. Ordinarily, she wouldn't have gotten into a car with three guys, but the driver had seemed so nice. Now why was he yelling at her? What kind of messed-up language was it? What was happening? She thought that she might throw up and she'd had a chili dog and Fritos for dinner.

“Stop, please stop! ”Vanessa said, and started to cry. It was an act, kind of, but it usually worked on the soldiers from Bragg.

Not this time, though. The insane yelling in the car got even louder. The weird language she didn't understand.

“Ra khoi xe. Ngay bay gro,” said Thomas Starkey.

Get out of the car. Do it now, bitch.

They were waving their scary guns and pointing, and she finally understood that she was supposed to get out of the car. Oh my God, were they going to leave her out here as a sick joke? The bastards!

Or was it worse than that? How much worse could it get?

Then the one in the front seat smacked her with the back of his hand. Why? She was already getting out of the car. Goddamn him! She almost toppled over on her silver platform shoes. Willie Nelson kicked her in the back and Vanessa gasped in pain.

“Ra khoi xe!” the man in front screamed again. Who were they? Were they terrorists or something?

Vanessa was sobbing, but she understood she was supposed to run, to hightail it into the dark woods and creepy swampland. Jesus, God, she didn't want to go in there! There'd be snakes for sure!

The one from the backseat punched her in the back again, and Vanessa started to run. What choice did she have?

"Lue do may se den toil'

You're going to die.

She heard shouts behind her.

Oh God, God, God, what were they saying? What was going to happen to her? Why had she let them pick her up? Big mistake, big mistake!

Then all Vanessa could think about was running.